


The end of daily trivialities

by eternal_sonnet



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dark, Deathfic, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Older Ciel Phantomhive - Freeform, POV Third Person Omniscient, Post-Canon, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:21:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23302012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternal_sonnet/pseuds/eternal_sonnet
Summary: During one seemingly endless night, Ciel's wish is finally fulfilled and his contract with Sebastian comes to an end.Post-canon. Ciel reflects upon the life he lived and the choices he made during it.
Relationships: Elizabeth Midford & Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	The end of daily trivialities

He had witnessed many acts of violence as the watchdog whether it was his men who were inflicting it or others. He had seen limbs being twisted in ways that shouldn't have been possible, bones broken to little less than splinters, blood staining white cotton and wooden floorboards as it sprayed out of sliced open veins, trailed out of shut lips, pooled around inanimate bodies in a seemingly endless stream and none of them had haunted him like he knew what happened this night would. He didn't know if this was because he had seen blood dripping from a familiar face because of a weapon he had held or whether the meaning of it all was finally setting in.

With the thought of his goal being finally achieved, he held onto the frame of the window while being careful not to cut his hand with any of the remaining pieces of the broken glass and breathed in the night time breeze. Downstairs, possibly in the dance hall, a gun was going off. Then silence, and a muffled yelling. It wasn't the end just yet and the thought of it came with both contempt and annoyance.

How longs has it been now? Five years since the day he made the contract; five years of deceit and planning for this one moment. He was tired and out of breath, holding something heavy with one hand which he didn't want to address or face just yet. Downstairs, he could hear something breaking and a muffled sound which could have been a scream. The whole ordeal, while it lacked the sunlight and glory he always imagined it with, was satisfaction, was an end, no matter how the night didn't seem to end at all. He could feel the worry building up within him, filling him to the brim, wanting to be felt until he was either weeping or moaning in anguish.

He clasped his hands tighter to steady himself and wondered what he was so afraid of. It was the kind of fear he hadn't felt in a long time, a memory of cold and hopelessness, of knowing that all was going to end without there being any chance given for him to prove himself ever again. He found himself back in the cage, fearing regret, fearing not death but the inevitably worthless nature of his life.

The door at the end of the hall opened, and he immediately turned towards it, cursing himself for the way his heart leapt at the thought of it being the devil himself. Instead someone with a much smaller frame walked in from the door.

"Elizabeth." he turned around, surprised.

She came towards him, her posture upright and her eyes certain, walking in gentle steps as if the blood on her face and red stains on her skirts were simply make up and embroidery. She stopped when she was a certain distance away from him, showing the first traces of what might be uncertainty. Silence hung between them yet there was no tension in it. All of it was gone now, there was no longer resentment or anger that came with the revelation of his unforgivable act of deceit even though he wasn't so optimistic to think that there was forgiveness was mixed into her distant gaze. 

She came closer and without sparing a glance towards him held the frame with her white gloved hands, choosing to stare at the sky which was still a dark shade of blue. While he was facing the window, he watched her with the corner of his eye and slowly released what he was holding with his other hand when he noticed the way her gaze shifted towards it. The gun hit the floor with a small metallic thud. The sudden thought of it brought back the still fresh memory of what was left of his brother, lying with blood around his head, his eyes open and the stitches around his neck visible from where his neck tie had slipped. He shook his head slowly to dissolve the memory and the thought of how sometimes pulling the trigger is the hardest and the easiest decision he had to make at the same time.

"I am sorry."

She turned to look at him, her eyebrows slightly raised. He wasn't expecting words to come out of him either, especially in such a quiet and soft voice, but he decided to let himself go on. However before he could even open his mouth again, she started speaking slowly in the same soft but still restrained voice, facing the window.

"If it is for what happened with the attackers and all this," she gestured around the manor with her hand, "it doesn't matter. I would always choose to defend it rather than not to be there during an-"

"I wasn't talking about that necessarily."

"I see."

She looked at him again. There was no discontent in her gaze, yet not even a glimmer of what she had until that day in which his brother came and claimed what was his back was left and despite the fact that he always thought of their engagement as more of a business meeting compared to her passionate excitement towards marriage, she had been a great playmate when they were both so young that the world consisted of apple pies and tea times and a lovely companion when he returned as the earl of the house.

"Well, Sebastian said he would deal with the remaining men. It should be over soon."

"Yes."

"My mother must be worried. She didn't hear from me for almost a week now."

"Of course."

Her sharp green eyes stared into his. He sighed deeply. 

"You should get going."

She nodded and touched the top of his arm gently with one white gloved hand she walked past him, leaving him with the dream of a farewell kiss; her pink lips on his cheek as he inhaled the soft flowery fragrance of her hair and for a moment-

Just for a moment they were thirteen again and the accomplishment of his goal was still far away. They were thirteen and she was pulling him in for a dance, she was resting her head on his shoulder during a rather long carriage ride, she was appearing suddenly during tea time, unannounced and carefree. He had known that they wouldn't be able to have a future together from the first day he saw her after his return and his revenge had always been his priority, yet this distance between them bothered him. He would have much preferred to be remembered as the older child and the fiancee. 

"I'll see you, Ciel." she said and moved along the hall, leaving him behind, speechless. She always had the courage to say what he could not say himself, and it was something he had always admired about her. Slowly swallowing all the words that had built upon his throat; the apologies, recollections and memories, he watched her go. Along the wide hall she walked, past the few paintings of fields and flowers that still hung on the wall and carefully stepping over the splinters of the ones on the floor, disappearing behind the door with no sound at all.

He stopped a while and looked at the spot where she disappeared, thinking of the ball, thinking of the sinking ship, Elizabeth being almost four years younger yet using her swords with the same passion. He thought of her gentle fingers in between his brother's hands, stitches carefully hidden by the gloves, his brother who was growing in height yet staying as youthful as ever. Now he was gone for the second time, and mourning the same death for the second time was surprisingly easier. He shook his head slowly and focused on what lied ahead for himself. Where was he to go? Was the sudden silence a messenger of the success he had been yearning for so long? The idea fueled his pace and he rushed through one room after the other with fast steady steps. His hand, now free from the heaviness of the gun, reached for the string behind his head and pulled it open. It was a risk; he didn't know how many of the men who had arrived with the culprits were still in here or if any of the servants had returned from their assigned places. But if this was the end, actually the end, it didn't matter either way. He didn't have any need for help anymore.

He walked past the portrait of his father, careful not to step on any pieces of the golden frame, walked past the study room from which the attackers had come from, walked past the room in which he knew _he_ was in (and he almost slowed down in front of it, almost looked back), the room in which he had achieved his revenge. Sebastian had held the man, the main culprit, and he had fired one bullet into the already scarred and bleeding face of the man before launching to attack with his fists as the pink pupils of the demon stared deep into his, a ghost of a smile on his face. The rest had been a simple job of clean up, which he left to Sebastian and went to deal with his past for the last time. 

How the reaper had begged, talked of salvation, talked of souls being saved even when there was more sin in them than light, even when they were constantly drowned in pain and sorrow for years, even when they turned their back against everything a being can turn its back against. Love, for instance. Acceptance. Forgiveness. He had cried out for the destruction of his favourite creation as if a part of him had also been hurt, as if pulling the trigger hadn't been one of the hardest things Ciel had done. He would have felt bad for him if he hadn't been swallowing down his disgust and anger for more the last few years, starting from the day he had seen the corpse of his dear brother at the stairs of _his_ manor, barely held together by thin strings. Undertaker had been a good ally, someone he would even have considered a friend at one point. But he had turned against him and his goal, almost souring the taste of his victory which he had worked so hard for.

It was all gone now, the deed was done, his past was avenged and the trouble was over. He slowed down when he reached the staircase. One of of the doors had been broken while the other was barely holding onto the wall with one of its hinges and the first lights of the morning were slowly casting their brightness upon the black and white checkered floor. He almost tripped over his own feet but caught on the handrails before falling, straightened his back, fixed his tie and went down the stairs as he had many times during his time in the manor.

First step.

Elizabeth was looking at him as he directed the gun to his twin and while the look on her face was something in between horror and worry, she didn't scream when the trigger was pulled. He knew Elizabeth would understand it.

_(He hoped that Elizabeth would understand it.)_

Second one.

There was an odd satisfaction in having the one he had chased for so long kneeling in front of him, his hands on his jaw, knuckles hurting and bleeding from under the blue gloves. 

Third one. 

He had never lied about his name. He had already earned it when the demon asked for it.

Fourth one.

He knew that he was never going to forget what victory tasted like.

Fifth one.

His mother always told him that nobility came from kindness and understanding.

Sixth one.

He knew that his father didn't believe in that.

Seventh one.

He wasn't sure if his brother believed in that.

Eight one.

He was never going to forget what darjeeling tea tasted like.

His heels hit the marble stairs in steady dull echoes. Was it a life well lived? He thought it was. That's where Undertaker had been wrong; revenge wasn't pointless when given a point and a life lived was better than death without anything to take with you afterwards.

_(Was there a dull ache in his chest?)_

As he stepped off the last step, he saw that the butler was standing in front of the open door, bathed in the golden light of the dawn, the sunlight appearing from behind him like a halo, casting his shadow on the checkered ground.

_(Had he ever wanted to be saved?)_

He didn't have his gloves on and the pentagram glowed on the back of his hand, possibly for the last time.

_(Did he ever had anything to lose?)_

He only considered asking to see the garden or the grave of his parents for a moment before remembering that Sebastian didn't have any obligations or duties towards him anymore. He neither had the time nor the right to make any more orders, the power that was given was rightfully taken away as promised. He didn't feel any less like an Earl as he stepped forward. It was something he earned, like the name, and he knew that right now if the demon just disappeared somehow, there would still be people who would listen to his orders, people who would comply, a person who would stand next to him despite how altered their relationship was at this point that it would pain him, even if it was a momentous throb deep in his chest.

_My, my._

He flinched slightly with the sudden honeyed voice ringing inside his head.

_Is that a glimmer of doubt in your mind, young master?_

He straightened his back and furrowed his brow with the mocking sneer.

"Of course not." his voice, while strong and steady, came out quieter than he expected it to be. "I have achieved my goal. Now you shall achieve yours."

"Indeed."

The demon took his time for a moment, scanning the room with his quick eyes; crooked chandelier, the torn down curtains and the pieces of furniture, all the mess that he won't have to put together to make it seem like nothing has happened in the morning. It had been enjoyable while it lasted, this facade of proper politeness, being the hand that pulled everything together, the symbol of tidiness and order. When he would look back on this in the future he would remember the Earl who lived for the taste of revenge and his simple, humane idea of justice, who narrated stolen memories as if they had belonged to him, who knew that as his father smiled and held his dear wife's hand in the morning, he washed the blood off from the same hands at night with the same smile and still could look at the grand portrait of the previous Earl that hung upon the mantelpiece, a ghost with a blue ring who reminded him daily of what it meant to take revenge.

The Earl of the era where grief and luxury were intervened, when the air always smelled of exotic tea and the sunlight shone on the pastel colours of the flowers. It was such a different period of time that when the years would eventually pass together with the ones who lived in them he would remember it with a certain type of fondness for the ways people hid behind such fancy masks to hide pure, raw desires and emotions. There was an elegance to it, it was art in its honesty. He was so amused by the stubborn, emotional nature of humans that he almost respected it.

It would pass, of course, it always passed as he stood still, changing the nature of the tricks every now and then to lure humans into a contract. Technology would develop and structure of the society would change in one way or the other and he would roam around in the cities, looking for prey just like how he roamed around in the ancient temples and ballrooms when it was their time to be the setting of the stage. But now he was enveloped by the early morning light, in front of the manor of his now former master, about to finish what he had started years ago. It was the big finale, the ending he had fought harder than he thought he would to achieve and didn't it make it more like a feast, a celebration well deserved? Years of hunger was nothing compared to his lifetime but the satisfaction of a well earned dinner always brought the same delight; he was simply living for this pleasure.

The Earl, on the other hand, stared at the light that came from behind the demon, from the clear blue sky and the fields that seemed to stretch for forever in the distance (which he had never seen this clearly before), thinking of everything that he ever did in this lifetime, this second chance he was granted that one miserable day.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a discussion on whether Sebastian will succeed in completing the contract or not and started thinking on how the manga might end which led me to write this fic. I think he will definitely succeed in taking the revenge no matter how hard it gets, though we still don't know what exactly Undertaker is planning...
> 
> I might edit some parts of it later on.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
